


A Night to Remember

by PrepSchoolAda



Category: Detroit Evolution - Fandom, Detroit: Become Human, Detroot Evoot
Genre: Gen, I am so sorry, Inspired by Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, also god dies in this but it's a hallucination so does it count, and then i was like 'huh i wonder what he got up to after everyone left the bar', anyway i realised none of my de content had any substantial chris miller content, crack fic of the highest order, i am so cancelled, maybe one day i'll learn i don't have to make fanfics out of all my shitpost tweets, seriously why did i do this, so… here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrepSchoolAda/pseuds/PrepSchoolAda
Summary: [happening parallel with Detroit Evolution]The night of Chris Miller's party to celebrate his promotion to detective was very eventful indeed; Nines had fallen victim to an android serial killer, revealed to be their colleague Ada. Tina and Gavin had gone to Cyberlife to investigate further and nurse Nines back to health, while Valerie had gone home for the evening.But that did leave Chris himself unaccounted for. What exactly was he getting up to at the bar while all this drama was unfolding?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	A Night to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn't watch the google translate stream a lot of this won't make sense but also chris is wasted so maybe it will lmao i'm so sorry for the way that i am

That was rude, to say the least. Chris had put a lot of time and effort into his promotion party (which quite frankly should have been organised by his friends as a surprise), and everyone just ditched him? Even after he went to the trouble of setting up his two completely heterosexual friends Nines and Ada? Well, screw them all! He didn't need them, he was a detective now! A very wasted detective!

Chris stumbled over to the bar with his empty glass and slammed it down on the counter. "Another!"

This startled two other nearby patrons, but they laughed it off when they saw how far gone he was. Chris downed shot after shot, and after each one would gleefully remind everyone within listening distance that he was a detective and didn't need his stupid friends who didn't stay for his awesome party.

"Hey, buddy, you having a good time?" said one of the patrons, a sharply dressed man in a suit and sunglasses. 

Sunglasses indoors? Really? Chris saw no other way to handle this than to reach over to the man's face and remove them.

"These look ssssSTUPID," Chris slurred with a sarcastic smile.

The patron smiled good-naturedly and cautiously took his sunglasses back. "Noted, good sir."

"I'm a detectiiiiive!" Chris hung his head back and yelled joyfully at the ceiling. "I am the SEEEAAAAA!"

The patron laughed nervously. "You're the sea? Sounds like a lot of work."

Chris' face turned deadly serious. "I like the sea. I could have been a lifeguard, you know."

The patron raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to be a detective?"

Chris blinked once, very slowly and carefully. "I'm not a detective. I'm the sea."

The patron paused, taking in the sight before him. "Maybe you should go easy on the booze now, buddy."

Chris flipped him off. Thankfully, the person he'd engaged in conversation with seemed to be the most understanding man in Detroit, and simply chortled while removing Chris' glass from his hand. This man was his new best friend, and Chris was sure to tell him so.

"You're my new best FRIIEEEEND!" said Chris, joyfully waving his hands around, not seeming to acknowledge the man he'd just declared his best friend at all. The patron chuckled and patted Chris on the back, to which Chris had a very violent reaction.

"NO! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Chris yelled, banging his hand on the counter several times and startling the bartender, who rolled her eyes and continued serving. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," said the patron.

"God does not allow serotonin!" Chris said solemnly, holding up a finger very close to the patron's nose. "You release serotonin and God's all like... NO!"

Chris proceeded to go on a rant about his impromptu religious crisis, oblivious to the fact that the patron had removed Chris' phone from his pocket and used Chris' own thumb to bypass the Touch ID mechanic.

"Okay..." the patron said to himself as he scrolled through Chris' contacts. He seemed unsure of which he should call in this situation. He turned the screen to Chris.

"Sorry to interrupt this... conversation with yourself, chief," said the patron with a chuckle. "But can you point to someone on this list that I can call to come pick you up?"

"NOT THAT GUY," screamed Chris, pointing to Gavin Reed's contact picture. "That guy's STUPID! He has a STUPID JACKET. And he's STUPID. Left me all alone at the BAR. UGH. One of my best friends. And he's STUPID."

"Okay, okay, we won't call Gavin," said the patron, trying his best to remain patient as he slowly continued to scroll through the list. "Anyone else?"

"That's my WIIIIIFE!" said Chris with a massive cheeser grin, pointing at his paramour's contact picture. "We have a son! He's beeeaaaautiful! I hope he grows up to be like you, best friend."

The patron smiled affectionately. "That's high praise, my guy."

The patron pressed Chris' wife's contact and waited for her to pick up. "Hey there ma'am, I'm at Burn's Alley with your husband... oh, his promotion party? Congratulations, buddy! Oh no, he's alright, it's just I think his friends left him and he's had a lot to drink. If you could come pick him up, that would be great. I'll stay with him, of course. Great, see you in a bit!"

The patron hung up and put Chris' phone back in his pocket for him. "Heeeey, guess what, champ? Your wife's coming to see you!"

"WOOHOOOOOOOO!" said Chris joyfully, and then his face darkened. "Oh God. How do I tell her I turned into the sea?"

The patron let out a loud laugh before he could stop himself. "I'm sure you guys will figure it out."

Chris laid his head down on the bar and began to drift into a peaceful sleep. "I'm tired. Being a lifeguard is hard work."

The patron took off his suit jacket and draped it over Chris. "Rest well, chief. You've earned it."

*

The bar was gone. The friendly sunglasses man was gone. Chris found himself at the pearly gates, ready to confront God.

"FACE ME, GOD!" Chris yelled, arms wide open. "It is time we settle this once and for all!"

The gates to heaven creaked open with a mighty roar, and Chris proudly marched through. Upon entering this sacred place, he was faced with a huge intimidating man, larger than life and sporting quite the majestic beard. It was God, and his restrictions on serotonin were about to be lifted once and for all.

"Detective Miller," God said in a booming voice. "You have ventured very far to challenge me. You, a detective, a lifeguard, and the sea all at once. How shalt we settle this dispute among us?"

Chris defiantly stood before this giant anti-serotonin man and yelled, "WE DRIIIIIIINK!"

And then, without rhyme or reason, detective Chris Miller was having a drinking competition with God. Bottles, shots and pints were demolished. Brutal insults were exchanged, and yet somehow none of them made sense. Neither party was very certain of the rules, or how to determine who had won, but that would not stop them from drinking by the crate. God was quite the challenger, but Chris would not give up.

"I... will... make... serotonin... FREE FOR ALL!" Chris spoke triumphantly between drinks. God, likely due to his divine nature, did not have to take breaks between gulps.

"You are a mere mortal, Christopher," God said condescendingly, towering above the detective. "You think you can outdrink me? The wine is my blood, Christopher. Nothing you do can"-

Mid-brag, God began choking. After struggling and coughing for several seconds, he collapsed to the heavenly ground with a mighty thud.

Chris Miller had killed God.

"Oh no... no... I never meant for this!" Chris fell to his knees, screaming to the sky. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I just wanted to free serotonin!"

*

"No, no! God, please come back to life, I'm so sorry!"

"Chris, what the hell?" His wife was shaking him awake. 

Chris grabbed her by the shoulders. "Sarah! I killed God!"

Sarah, the love of Chris' life and a large portion of his impulse control, rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet. "I'm sure he'll find it in his heart to forgive you, let's get home."

"I just wanted to free the serotonin!" Chris wailed as his wife carried him.

Sarah turned to the kindly patron. "Thank you so much."

The patron smiled and raised his glass. "Quite alright. He's a good dude."

Chris barrelled forward and leaned right into the patron so their noses were practically touching. "YOU'RE A GOOD DUDE! The best dude!"

"Okay, okay," Sarah whispered, pulling Chris back into her arms. "Come on home, detective, time to sober up."

"I love yoooouuuuu," Chris sang as he was carried out of the bar. His wife chuckled and pulled him closer as they walked to their car.

A few hours later, Chris would be woken up by some deeply troubling news. The night ahead would be one of the most eventful and challenging that he would ever face in his career. But in that moment, Detective Chris Miller was the sea, a lifeguard, the most celebrated detective in the world, and the reluctant champion of serotonin.

And of course, by the next morning, he had forgiven himself completely for killing God in his dreams, as he didn't remember that he'd done it.


End file.
